I See London, I See France
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: I see Jenny's underpants. Crossover with Batman, set in London. Jenny is at a conference, and one of the investors is quite unlike the others. Jenny Shepard/Bruce Wayne pairing, smut. Note the rating before reading, please. A sexy two-shot.


A/N: Okay- you can blame Aly for this one. I've had a lot of inspiration for my NCIS/Batman crossover, and my Jenny/Bruce pairing. This is not connected to the storyline that is going to be introduced in the two other stories; this is a standalone piece. It is also smut of the Jenny Shepard/Bruce Wayne kind- though there is no Batman in this one-shot.

This was written while fangirling over George Clooney in that suit at the Golden Globes- unf. Just…that man seriously gets more attractive each year.

Also: I fully blame Kelly and Meg for this. Never IM with them if you want to have a clean mind and minimal plot bunnies.

Disclaimer: I do not own either of these characters; merely the plot.

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><p>Jenny disliked London; it was damp and cold, and she just wanted to curl up in her hotel room and never leave.<p>

But instead she was here at this conference, trying to convince foreign weapons and stock companies to fund NCIS' budget. Her heels were killing her feet, and her cheeks felt like she'd been smiles for days instead of hours. She'd tried to at least find a suitable man to try to take back to the hotel room, but all of them were too old or married.

She had just about given up hope when the doors opened just a few feet away and a man walked in, dressed in a charcoal gray suit, his dark hair slicked back, but not in a bad way. He had a strong jaw, his profile stunningly attractive, and Jenny swallowed, her eyes growing wider as she stared at him.

She hadn't seen _this_ man at all today.

He turned, looking around, and she got her first full glimpse of him- a light blue shirt, paired with a gray tie, and Jenny had to swallow so that she could breath. The man in front of her was gorgeous, his face clean shaven and his brown eyes dark, unreadable and sexy. He caught her eye and she raised one eyebrow slightly, waiting for him to make a move.

He did so by taking the few steps forward so that he was practically touching, his hands resting lightly in his pockets as his lips parted into a smile, his eyes gleaming as they ran over her body, taking their time on her nylon-encased legs, shown off by her black pencil skirt. She was smirking by the time his eyes reached hers again, one of her slim hands extending itself into the space between them.

"Jenny Shepard," she said primly, her lips curving even more into a smile.

"Bruce Wayne," the man replied, his voice deep and rich, like mahogany and scotch. Jenny shivered unintentionally, chills racing up and down her spine. She was intoxicated by his very presence; he was masculine and strong, his handshake firm, his palms rough and yet smooth against hers. He bent his head, bringing her hand to his and kissing her knuckles, his lips brushing against her skin and making her heart skip a beat. "It's nice to meet you, Jenny Shepard. Why are you here at this fine conference?"

"I'm the Director of NCIS," she replied, watching as his eyes widened in interest for a moment. "And you, Mr. Wayne?"

"Please, call me Bruce," he replied, and she nodded, lips curving upwards again. "And I'm one of the lucky benefactors that just so happens to be looking for an agency to back. So, Ms. Shepard- convince me to back NCIS."

His charming smile had her practically melting at his feet- how on earth was she supposed to convince him to give money to NCIS when she could barely find her voice? He was watching her with interest, his eyes wandering over her neck and shoulders, to the v-cut of her dark blue blouse, to the line of her black jacket before returning to her mouth, settling on her red-painted lips.

"Well, Bruce," she started, watching as his eyes gleamed at her use of his first name. "NCIS is the finest of all the agencies- because you can never trust the CIA, and the FBI has been propagating themselves since the sixties."

"Honesty- I like it," Bruce replied, nodding as he smiled, looking so incredibly sexy Jenny almost couldn't breathe. "I like you, Ms. Shepard. And I think my company will too. I think you'll have to join me for lunch so I can hear more about you."

"Don't you mean NCIS?" Jenny asked, amused.

"No," Bruce said, eyes gleaming. "I mean you."

Jenny's eyes widened slightly, surprise coloring her face momentarily before she composed herself, raising an eyebrow.

"Well then- where to, Mr. Wayne?"

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><p>They decided on a small café that was out of the way; finding a corner booth, they sat together, knees brushing as his hand not-so-accidentally touched hers. Slipping her jacket off she watched his eyes track her movements, enjoying the way his fingers curled together, muscles tightening.<p>

Jenny didn't know if she could eat anything; her stomach was in knots and everything below that area was hot and getting steadily wetter the longer Bruce's fingers played with her knee. A lanky waitress with blonde hair came over and took their orders, going away to fix their tea. Bruce's fingers moved higher on her leg as the waitress walked away, toying with the hem of her skirt.

She slapped his hand slightly, sending him a warning glance.

"We _are_ in a public café, Bruce," Jenny reminded him, one eyebrow quirking upwards as her own hand slid dangerously high on his thigh. Bruce's eyes darkened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"In a corner booth, in the dark," Bruce countered, his hand sliding underneath her skirt and running teasingly along the edge of her nylon stocking, making her bite her lip to hold back the moan. "Ever been fucked in public, Director Shepard?"

Jenny gasped, caught off guard by such a forward statement. Her eyes darkened, arousal coursing through her veins and rushing south. She shifted uncomfortably, pressing her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

"Bruce," she breathed, watching his eyes drift to her heaving chest, her breasts pressed tightly against her blouse, straining against the buttons. His hand moved further up her skirt, his long, lean fingers teasing her inner thighs and the edge of her panties, skirting the soaked circle that was right where she needed him most. A rush of air left her lips, sound dangerously close to a cry.

Leaning forward Bruce placed his lips over hers, silencing her, and giving her quite a kiss to boot. His lips were soft but strong, parting hers easily as one hand gripped the edge of the booth tightly and the other held onto his thigh, fingers digging into his pants. She was intoxicated by his kisses; he smelled like cologne and aftershave, his breath like minty toothpaste.

"God you taste good Jenny," he groaned, his voice hoarse with arousal as his fingers rubbed her through her soaked panties, applying pressure to her clit and making her breathing turn into panting. "I bet you feel even better."

"Take me to your hotel and you can find out," she gasped, her voice a sexy whisper in his ear, making him groan again under his breath.

"I think I'll find out here instead," he replied, and with that unceremoniously shoved aside her panties and pushed two fingers inside of her. She bit her lip to stop the cry, only half-succeeding and a strangled gasp left her lips.

"Bruce, what-" Jenny was dying, drowning in the feelings Bruce was giving her, the way his fingers were moving and she felt so hot and just a little more attention on her clit and- "_Bruce._"

He rode her through the release, calming her down so that her breathing was normal and she was merely flushed. He removed his fingers gently, though she still moaned in disappointment when he left her feeling empty. She sat and watched him lick his fingers, stirring her stomach again. Their waitress came over with their tea, and Jenny flushed all over again, thanking her as she walked away.

"I cannot believe we just did that," she said under her breath, shaking her head as she looked at her tea, knowing she wouldn't be able to drink it now. Bruce grinned, sugaring his tea and taking a sip easily.

"Think of it as a warm-up," he replied, and her eyes widened before her teeth began to worry her bottom lip, her legs crossing under the table. "Because I am far from done with you, Jenny Shepard."

Jenny sucked in a breath, her stomach coiling at his words. He leaned forward, tucking a strand of crimson hair behind her ear, pressing a kiss just below her neck.

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful when you're naked in my bed, Director."

The shiver that coursed down her spine was electric.


End file.
